


A woman and The Woman

by Cibbs



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 11:46:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13857138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cibbs/pseuds/Cibbs
Summary: Sherlock, John and Molly go in a cruise. But there are two more people aboard.





	A woman and The Woman

Chapter I  
"Well, here we go." Said Sherlock while he raised the collar of his coat and closed the door of 221B Baker Street after John left the house.  
Molly was standing in front of him. She carried a red wheeled plastic suitcase in her hand. They asked a cab which led them to the port, where the ship was ready for sailing. When they boarded a boy brought their luggage to the cabins. Sherlock and Molly had a double one and, John, on the other hand, occupied a neighbour individual cabin.  
Before they entered, they had a walk in the deck. About half hour later, Sherlock took Molly's hand and warmed with his breath.  
“Shall we get inside, Molly? You'll get cold.”  
Molly nodded and they both got back to their cabin. When they were inside, she locked the door while Sherlock, sat on the bed took off his shoes and put his slippers on. Molly sat by him and took his hand. She started moving it in her face, making Sherlock caress her cheeks.  
“First, you take my hand.” Molly started whispering. “And then, you hug me. A bit tighter. That's it. And now, kisses. Depending on where you kiss, is more or less pleasant. First, very small kisses on the forehead.” Sherlock obeyed as if he were a pupil trying to learn a lesson. “Very good. Now, I close my eyes and you kiss my eyelids. Then, you get down until you find my lips. When you get to them, I put in your mouth the end of my tongue and, after a moment, you do the same. Very good. And for ending, you turn back and I kiss your nape.”  
Molly kissed Sherlock's nape. That made his hair to bristle and he could not contain a pleasure moan.  
“Now, I'm going to unbutton you shirt. Very slowly. And, in the meantime, you do the same with my blouse and start kissing my neck. Very little by little.”  
When Sherlock and Molly had finished, he felt asleep with one hand lent against her breast. Molly's heartbeat was one of the best sensations he ever felt. He always was against love, because it was in the antithesis of the virtue that he admired the most: Logic. Logic was the most brutally addictive drug, the law that could explain everything. Everything except, precisely, what he was feeling.

Chapter II  
The next day, Sherlock woke up after the best night in his life.  
“Morning, Molly.”  
But she wasn't in the bed. Sherlock stood up of a jump, put on his housecoat and slippers and went to the cabin's balcony. Nothing. He dressed so quickly that he messed up his shoelaces before he could tie them properly.  
"John!" He said knocking on his friend's door cabin. "John!  
John opened the door with a sleepy face, a china cup decorated with flowers in one hand and his housecoat full of coffee stains and cookie crumbs. "Blimey, what a feast!" Sherlock thought, clearly disgusted.  
“What's happening, Sherlock?”  
“Molly has disappeared.” Said him, almost crying. “She isn't at the cabin.”  
“Keep calm, Sherlock. Wait a moment. I'll get dressed and we go to find her.”  
Five minutes later, both friends went over the ship's corridors finding Molly. But the only thing they found was a white cotton shawl in one of the deck's chairs.  
“Are you sure it's Molly's, Sherlock?”  
“Look.” He said while he showed him the garment.-“It's handmade, but it has an embroidery with the initials M.H.”  
“And couldn't be from... I don't know... Margaret Hardwicke?”  
“Nope. This class of knitting is called chickpea. Doing it is very difficult but Molly's mum is an expert knitter. It was her Christmas present last year.”  
When John touched again the shawl, his hand stained with blood.  
“Sherlock!” He ejaculated while he was looking at the cloth, disgusted.  
Sherlock's heart sped up. "No! It can't be!" He thought. He took off his magnifying glass form his pocket and observed more carefully the shawl before sniffed it.  
“The spots are relatively recent.” He said. “We have to find her.”  
John put two fingers onto his friend's wrist.  
“Sherlock, keep calm. She will appear.”  
But he squeezed his fists, perhaps not to cry and disgrace himself as an imbecile; perhaps not to punch John. He was desperate.  
“Don't talk me with that doctor's voice, God damn it!” He cried at the top of his lungs.  
“Sherlock, if you can't cry, talk.” John whispered. “And, what the fuck, if you can't talk, keep quiet. You can be like this the entire trip, with that thoughtful expression.”  
No one of them said anything while they went over the deck.  
“Sherlock, if you are not well...” Said John. “... We can call the master-at-arms and tell him to be responsible for the girl.”  
Sherlock was about to punch him, but he controlled himself.  
“And you think that I'm going to let that bunch of idiots resolve the case three months later? No! If you don't want to come with me, I'll do everything alone. You can enjoy the sailing.”  
And he abandoned the cabin slamming the door.  
Sherlock had already walked through the ship from starboard to port and from prow to stern. But there was no trace of Molly. It was like she had vanished in the air. Definitely demoralized, he returned to his cabin, where he turned the lock of the door. He took of his shoes and lie down in the bed, soaking his pillow with tears. When he squeezed it, he joined his hand so tightly that his nails sank into the palms of his hands. The cry exhausted him so strongly that he felt asleep. His body hurt as if someone had been beating him.  
He didn't have an idea of how long he had been sleeping, but when he woke up, a large part of the pain was gone, and he could stand up. When he opened the cabin's door, he found a tiny black paper box. He took it and closed the door. Then, he sat in his desk and, with the point of a knife; he broke he adhesive tape which closed the box. Inside were a pair of earphones, the same colour as the box, wrapped and hold with a flexible wire, covered in red plastic and a MP3 player.  
Curious, Sherlock turned the player on and he put on the earphones. He started to listen to a song in Spanish, a language he spoke badly, but he never was capable of understand well. An elegant and sensual man's voice sang:  
"Tengo una debilidad ¡Ay, qué calamidad! Mi vida es un disgusto Tengo una debilidad No sé qué pasará Si no me doy el gusto" [1]  
Wondering, Sherlock played the next song. He could understand it perfectly, because it was one of his favourite bands:  
"It's been a hard day's night, and I been working like a dog  
It's been a hard day's night, I should be sleeping like a log  
But when I get home to you I find the things that you do  
Will make me feel alright"  
He passed to the next song:  
"Help! I need somebody,  
Help! Not just anybody,  
Help! You know I need someone.  
Help!  
"What on Earth...?" Sherlock thought in anger. "I don't understand anything."  
He stood up and started to walk through the cabin with big steps. He started the random mode of the Mp3 and he listened to the songs ten, twenty, a hundred times, until he lost the count and he knew them by heart.  
"A Spanish song and two Beatles' songs" He thought. "This doesn't make any sense."  
He turned the Mp3 off and put it in the table. He took off his cuff button and he put a nicotine patch in his arm before he lied down in the bed. He closed his eyes.  
An elegant hand with nails painted with a red as strong as fire hold the door handle. Sherlock was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the gear opening.  
Someone rubbed his shoulder.  
“I'm not hungry. Let's have dinner!”  
He opened his eyes suddenly. Who could be but Irene Adler, the Woman for excellence? She wore a sable skin coat, of a pure black and as long as she was, which emphasized more his pale skin and his eyes as green as emeralds.  
Sherlock sat up while Irene took off his coat, showing a red negligee with broad sleeves, embellished with marabou feathers in the neck and cuffs and closed by golden brooches. Her clothes were completed with expensive shoes made of black crocodile with a leis flower in the instep which she took off before sitting in the bed near Sherlock. She started to unbutton him his trousers.  
At nightfall, the lights of the cabins' corridor were on. It was then when Sherlock woke up listening to John's voice.  
“Sherlock?” He said very softly. “Sherlock?”  
He woke up suddenly.  
“Have you seen her?” Sherlock said suddenly.  
“Molly?” John answered. “No, not ye...”  
“Not Molly, but The Woman.”  
“It had to be a dream, Sherlock.”  
“Not at all.” Said Sherlock standing up. His hands were trembling. “She was wrapped in skins and he tried to...”  
“I'm saying it had to be a dream. She is not here. You must eat something.” He moved the tray nearer to the bed. “I'll come back in a while. Eat calmly and rest.”  
John left the cabin and, when he closed the door, Sherlock took the lid off his plates. There were green beans, a grilled chicken fillet and a glass of red wine. Disgusted, he took the tray and threw it down the toilet. The red wine ended up in the drainpipe of the washbasin, staining all the porcelain. Sherlock turned on the faucet and started to scrub the liquid.  
He left the empty tray on the table and he returned to bed. He moved his hands nervously. He dressed quickly, took his Browning L9A1 and left the cabin. He returned some time later and he discovered a white paper envelope on the table. But he was so demoralized; he didn't have the strength to open it.

Chapter III  
Two days went after Molly's disappearance. In that time, Sherlock didn't leave his cabin. John was worried. But he knew his friend could be so stubborn. When an idea came to his mind, or he was in a case, he could not think in anything else until he solved it.  
In the meantime, Sherlock, laying on the bed, was visiting his mind palace.  
The first figure he saw was Molly, dressed in her lab coat and her hair tied back in a ponytail. Then, he saw John in his pyjamas, The Woman, the sable skins... but there was no clue that led him to his loved one.  
"Nothing!" He thought. "Where can she be?"  
Sherlock put on his coat and his scarf and took the envelope and left the cabin. The first gust of cold air invaded his lungs and his brain was free at last from the foul air inside.  
He sat on one of the deck chairs and threw a black woollen blanket over his shoulders before closing his eyes. He moved his hands as if he was turning on and off mechanisms or opening doors. He started going through the ship in his mind. He saw his cabin, the furniture, the halls' carpets, the tables' plates, the company's emblem... and his mother, who sang:  
"Don't give up till it's over  
Don't quit if you can  
The weight on your shoulder  
Will make you a stronger man."  
It was then when he took the envelope from his pocket and he opened it. Inside was a small key ring in the shape of a small silver propeller.  
"Propellers... propellers... propellers"- He thought. "Holy crap!" He ejaculated, snapping his fingers.  
He put the key ring in the pocket of his coat and stood up from the deck chair with a jump while the passengers looked at him as if he had gone mad without remedy.  
"John!" Said the detective while he was pounding his friend's cabin door. "Come, John, come! The game is afoot! Get your gloves and pistol ready!"  
Chapter IV  
Both friends tried to go down to the holds, but that was a prohibited space for passengers. With not very good manners, Sherlock told the guard it was essential for them to go. He was so nervous that nothing and nobody would prevent him to release Molly. At the end, John showed the guard his military card and the three of them went into the holds, lighted by powerful torches.  
After two hours of exploration, Sherlock heard what seemed to be Molly's voice.  
“Silence, everyone.”  
“We haven't said anything.” Said the guard.  
“But you were trying to. Not even God can move here.”  
Sherlock pricked up his ears and followed the voice, as a sailor follows a mermaid's signing.  
“John, have you got your stethoscope, by chance?”  
“I never go anywhere without it.” Said John, putting his hand in a big pocket of his jacket lining.  
The detective placed the earphones in his ears and got the bell nearer to the box. It was, definitely, Molly's voice, who was screaming for help. With his heart in the throat, Sherlock asked for a chisel and forced the lock with it. When he opened the box, he discovered a speaker.  
“I can resist everything...” A voice said behind him. “... except temptation.”  
And, who could be but Jim Moriarty, the most famous consulting criminal? He wore his Westwood suit and shiny black calfskin shoes. When he moved away, Molly appeared after him, gagged and with her wrists tied up with what looked white satin ribbons.  
Sherlock's heart sped up. He took off his pistol and aimed. But Moriarty wasn't there anymore. John untied Molly, who hugged them, looking at Sherlock with an especially affectionate sight. A sight which said a lot more than the largest speech.  
THE END


End file.
